A Liar's Love
by Intricacy
Summary: I lied to him. Told him everything I could think of just to avoid him. Before, I could easily express my hate toward him. So why was I creating all these excuses? Did I really think it would console a broken heart? His... or mine? LJ OneShot


A Liar's Love

_I lied to him. Told him everything I could think of just to get away from him. Before, I had no problem just telling him upfront that I hated him, despised him, and wanted him away from me. So why was I creating all these excuses? Did I really think that they would console a broken heart? His... or mine? LJ_

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter.

Brief one-shot that I came up with while I'm sitting here, nose running with a cold. So I've finished my science fair project (well, mostly), cleaned my room and the bathroom, and decided that I'd write it up.

Not realy angst, actually. It's really rather simple and brief. I think it works for a quick and easy read, but what do you think?

Enjoy! Remember to review!

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He was shifting from foot to foot now, glancing at the floor. I looked at him strangely and asked him if he wanted anything--a drink, perhaps? Was he ill? He declined my offer to bring him to the Hospital Wing, stating that he was merely uncomfortable. That was it.

I frowned. It was not like him to be this way; I knew. I should know, after all. Years of having James bloody Potter persistently asking me for a date--and being declined every time--had never brought down his self-confidence. Granted, there were times I saw a flicker of doubt pass through his eyes when I entered the room, but that look quickly faded and he was replaced with his arrogant, cocky self.

Seventh year was different. Seventh year, he was changed. As Head Boy--a shock unlike any other--and as a friend. I daresay he's among the closest of my friends. I laughed with him; I talked with him. The conversations never failed to be upbeat and exciting. His intellectual knowledge spanned over a vast amount of subjects and I found I could speak to him about anything, and he would likely be able to understand.

But this is not James, the old one, or the new one. This is an awkward boy who seems unwell. He shook it off and promised that he'd be better soon. I scolded him lightly for it, listing possible punishments that I may conduct should he fail to meet terms--which, of course, I would never do.

He never did seem to recover, though. I don't know what it was, but whenever I walked into the room, his laughter would fall short and he would sober. Did he want me no more as a friend? The idea hurt me; after years of questing for me, he finally knew who I was. Was he disappointed? I hoped not, for he had already become a significant part of my daily routine. I would hate for him to depart from it.

I knew, of course, it was more than just the hate of change. He was a friend--to me, at least. And the thought of losing him horrified me. Terrified me and hurt me perhaps more than it should have.

The days passed, and his condition had not changed. He continued to be that person who never could look me in the eye, who avoided me in the hallways, and rushed a quick excuse to avoid speaking to me any longer than necessary. Our Heads meetings grew shorter and shorter until they lasted no more than ten minutes--a great deduction from our previous two hours.

No genuine talking was ever involved in the Heads meetings. Just the rustle of the exchanging of papers, maybe a stray comment here on the latest project, and then the farewells. He would leave before I could even put in a word, the door swinging behind him.

I knew it. He didn't enjoy my company anymore. The idea finally settled that one fateful Thursday, where I resorted to my room to cry. I didn't tell my friends what was wrong; I couldn't figure out the most of it. He was my friend--the most I should have been was depressed. Was my personality really that horrid?

Then it changed. It was Tuesday--that other T day of the week--and I was walking outside in the cold as Christmas was approaching, my cloak gathered around me. I shivered still, wondering why, exactly, in Merlin's name did I leave the comfort of the Gryffindor fire to resort the bane area of the frozen land.

My breath hung white before me every time I exhaled shakily, closing my eyes tightly. I had only just decided that staying outside was a terribly foolish thing to do and was about to head in when a voice stopped me.

"Lily."

I spun around, startled. Of all the people I had expected, the last one was James Potter. Granted, he would have been the one I hoped most for, but certainly not predicted! He never sought me out on a conversation anymore. Never. My stomach began to unclench, only barely aware of the cold. Could there be hope yet for me?

He faltered when my attention was on him and he diverted his eyes once more on the ground. I sighed inwardly; perhaps it was just a false sensation of possibility. There was nothing different from this meeting than any other--only that he had initiated the conversation. Well, if this _could_ be called a conversation. It was a start, though, was it not?

"What did I do wrong, James?" I asked, my brows furrowed in confusion. "I'm sorry if I messed up our friendship--but what did I do?"

"Nothing, nothing," he said, his eyes still focused on a patch of frozen dirt. He kicked at it, but it did not move anywhere. It was much too cold for even the dirt to do anything but huddle.

"Then why won't you speak to me anymore?" I demanded, my confusion turning into hurt and anger. My temper once more took control of me. "I get it. I was right all along--this was just another one of your _schemes_ to injure me! First you tried to go out with me, and when that didn't work, you tried to be my friend. Well, are you satisfied with what you've done, _Potter_? Are you? I knew that even _talking_ to you was a mistake!"

He looked genuinely surprised and hurt by my sudden words. His head shot up and stared at me, his eyes wide. "No--Merlin, Lily, of course not!" he said hurriedly--and somewhat frantically, if I could sense it correctly.

"Then why?" I demanded, folding my arms, waiting for a response. When I was met with none, I let out a humorless chuckle. The cold had hit back once more, full force. "This is a waste of time, breath, and warmth. I'm leaving." With that, I turned and started back toward the castle.

"I love you."

The words had come out tumbled and rushed in a single shallow breath. They were soft, afraid to speak up--but, though jumbled together, every word managed to be distinct and rung loudly in my mind.

Everything stopped as I suddenly froze. The cold had suddenly disappeared and my anger had suddenly left, once more replaced by shock. I turned around slowly, a questioning look on my face. My mind was clouded by confusion again. The look on his face proved that he hadn't meant to say that--it had come out by accident.

"What?" I said, my voice cracking, barely able to believe what he had said. Friends, I had thought! Nothing more! It was the agreement that started the base of our friendship!

A light pink rose to his cheeks that I suspected was not only from the cold. He kicked the ground once more as he looked down. "You heard me," he said grudgingly, not wanting to repeat the statement. And I didn't press, for I knew how difficult it was to say something like that.

But I had no idea how to respond to such a declaration.

He looked up from the ground when he received no response. I'm not quite sure what look he saw on my face, but he said quietly, "Will you go out with me?"

Those words I thought I'd never hear again. Though they weren't as cursed as they were one year ago, I still wasn't ready for it. My heart started to beat louder and louder, faster and faster, until I thought that I should faint. Blood filled my head as the world seemed to blur before me as the pounding of my heart deafened my ears. My legs started to shake beneath me, ready to buckle any moment.

Then, I noticed, he still awaited a response from me. My eyes flickered to the floor as I said desperately, "James, I--"

Already, he had turned to walk past me, aware of my answer. I hated to see him so broken like that, and before I knew, the words had tumbled out of my mouth.

"I would, but I can't right now."

I spited myself inwardly. To give false hope was much worse than a simple rejection. I winced as he turned around to look at me, the anger and depressed appearance fading a little.

And since then, the excuses came. One by one.

They would kill me. I knew it.

And they'd kill him, too.

-----------------------

He asked me to meet him at Three Broomstick's over break. He didn't specifically say it, but I was well aware of what it was: a date. I could not help but say that I couldn't do it, again--I had come down with a terrible fever.

Which, of course, was a lie.

I had never expected him to show up on my doorstep with roses in hand. I accepted them awkwardly; at least he knew I hated lilies. I then hesitantly invited him inside.

His eyes scanned the house quickly and he was instantly aware of my lie. It was much too clean; no tissues askew, no empty tissue boxes lying on the floor, no wastebaskets full to the brim with used tissues, and no pockets overstuffed with, well, tissues. His eyes clouded over with a stormy look but managed to be polite throughout--but only just.

He left as soon as he could.

I did not blame him.

He didn't look at me for weeks. It hurt, but I was the one to fault. I had attempted an apology, but nothing I could say could divert him from his lonely solitude. Not even his three best friends could seem to bring him out of his depressed state. They likely didn't even know _why_ he was like so.

In letters, I sent him long-winded apologies, but never did I dare admit that I had openly lied to him. I saw these letters burned in the Gryffindor fire, unopened, with the wax seal still on it. Every letter burnt was a bite to my heart.

I finally had managed to corner him one day and a tear had fallen out of the corner of my eye. I apologized profusely. It was the tear that did it, I think. He talked to me again.

I was sorry. I was so sincerely sorry.

But I couldn't stop it from happening again.

-----------------------

He asked me, one month later, to join him on a walk outside. I had said no, perhaps another time; I had too much homework that day, and I hoped him enjoyment on his walk. It was another lie. I had finished half my homework already, and there wasn't much left to do.

He looked disappointed and asked me if I needed any help. I declined his offer, saying that I could manage on my own.

He never did take that walk, and I was forced to retreat to the library to spend a miserable day with endless books.

-----------------------

It happened again the next month, during a Hogsmeade weekend. He asked me if I would care to partake in the visit together, as his friends were occupied. I knew this was a blatant lie, coming from _him_. I saw the rest of the Marauders lounging around, looking ultimately bored. But all he wanted was a date, and I naturally refused.

I said that Alice had made me promise to go shopping with her the night before, and I had agreed. I could not go back on that promise. He retreated, nodding, his face ashen.

I felt guilt stab me at the heart. Alice was going to go with Frank, her long-term boyfriend.

Another lie on the list that I had mentally been taking. It was a mistake to install false hope within him in the first place.

I would not be in such remorse.

He would not be in such disappointment.

Neither of us ended up going to Hogsmeade, and I stayed in my dorm that whole day, for I knew he could not see me there.

The next day, however, he looked at me stonily and told me I'd lied; that Alice was with Frank, and not me. Unless I had used the Polyjuice potion, it could not have been so.

I was shocked, to put it lightly. I had not seen him ride the carriages to Hogsmeade. How had he known? I had not bothered to come up with an excuse, for I thought it would remain my secret.

In the spur of the moment, I said that we were diverted early, breaking her promise to me. She'd forgotten to tell me about the new arrangement.

He did not look very swayed and doubt thick as steel remained on his face, but he let it pass.

It took another round of apologizing for him to speak to me again.

-----------------------

The following month, he asked if I had free time. If I did, he would show me something.

My interest and curiosity peaked, but I did not dare to agree. I shook my head, saying that I had promised to tutor another student. He frowned this time and did not bother hiding it.

I did not know why I never told him the truth; he was not dumb. Far from that--he was much too intelligent. He knew something was wrong, and he took the opportunity to scrutinize it.

"You don't want to go out with me."

He stated the truth--stonily, coolly, and hatefully. It was as though he had planned to say that for a while, but it still murdered him to speak every cursed syllable. I paled at his accusation.

I dropped my head down low as I felt tears rising. It was not long before I started to openly sob; he never said anything. I never expected him to. It would be much too selfish of me to think that.

He left.

And I fell to the floor, crying. I'd never meant to hurt anybody like that.

And I only hurt myself further.

I lapsed into silence, not speaking much. James never bothered to reconcile with me. While I had hoped that he would do so, I certainly couldn't be the one to demand it. I was, after all, the one at fault.

Again.

-----------------------

The next month was my murder.

I was in the common room, a book open, and my eyes kept on drifting shut. I had to finish my homework, but there was simply too much.

It was late at night. One in the morning, I supposed, at earliest. I never bothered to check the time; I simply continued writing my essay, flipping back and forth through the pages, using as much willpower as I could stand not to fall asleep.

In all my weariness, I did not notice him come from behind me, until he spoke.

"I'm going out with Ana now. I thought that you should know."

His voice grew dark as he continued his next words. I did not have to turn around to predict that his eyes were narrowing.

"You won't have to worry about making excuses to avoid meeting me anymore."

I heard him turn and leave, footsteps climbing up the stairway to the boys' dormitory. I felt tears prickle my eyes.

Why did I feel so?

Should I not be relieved?

All thoughts of completing my homework had disappeared. I only thought now of James, and what he had told me.

It seemed to mark the end of our friendship. But if our friendship was revived, would I be satisfied still?

Only then did I realize: I did like him.

A lot.

And I had been much too scared to accept any of his offers.

But now, it was too late.

I did what anyone else would have done in my place. I had the chance, but I let it go. I let it slip onto that girl named Ana.

I couldn't hate her. It was all my fault.

I cried.

-----------------------

I was much more depressed than I ever was. I hardly spoke or responded to teachers when they proposed a question to the class. My homework seemed to take longer to complete with my thoughts constantly being pulled away. The only reason why I managed to maintain my grades was due to the fear of being stripped of my Head Girl status--and that would mean stripping away my meetings with James.

I had dug myself a hole and had willingly--perhaps blindfolded, but that was beside the argument--jumped in. I couldn't get out. There seemed to be chains that restricted me from reaching out and a rag that muffled my voice to keep it from screaming out.

I never told anyone the reason toward my depression. Not until James.

He came toward me one day as I was finishing my homework late at night again. I had only my conclusion left for my essay on a specific banned love potion. I was so caught up in trying to find a way to tie all the points together with proper, sophisticated English that I had not heard him come from behind me.

"You're unwell."

He was stating another obvious fact. I sighed and turned the pages of my book, hoping it would propose some help for me.

"I hadn't known," I replied, my mind swarming with thoughts.

He chuckled, not the least amused, as I flipped back. I recalled something that was involved with the potion early on in the introduction to the chapter.

"I had thought that my avoiding you would help you get better," he admitted.

Startled, I dropped my quill and let my willpower drop, turning to meet him.

He stood there, with his hazel eyes that would sometimes sparkle with foreign amusement, but now held the look of captivating sincerity. He was running a hand through his hair which stood on end, as it always did.

"Did you?" I said, surprised, my words quiet. Was it possible that he had only dated Ana to help improve my health? ...Was it possible he still cared? I shook that thought away. It was impossible. I was far too cruel to deserve his care.

He nodded affirmative. I turned away and looked at the almost finished essay in front of me, not sure as to what to say. It seemed that he was at a loss for words as well.

The silence grew more awkward and I feared that he would leave. He couldn't--he simply couldn't! I searched my mind frantically for something to say--anything reasonable, anything that would _work_.

I couldn't.

I could feel his presence start to wane as he backed up slowly. I spun my head around to face him. Sure enough, he was moving slowly back, but frozen in motion at my sudden movement.

I couldn't help but let the tears run down my cheeks silently, my eyes begging for forgiveness. I didn't know whether or not he received my message, but he stopped his departure and came to my side, an arm wrapped around my shoulder for comfort.

I stiffened at his touch but relaxed into it, soon enough. It was comfortable--it was heaven. I didn't want him to leave, but I didn't deserve this. After all I've done to him. To me, even.

"Ana wouldn't like this," I murmured, trying in vain to wipe away my tears. They only continued to run.

He smiled softly. I hadn't seen him smile in months. It was elating.

"She wouldn't," he agreed, "but she can't do anything about it."

I frowned, turning to look at him. What did he mean?

He let out a quiet breath at my expression. Shaking his head, he returned his gaze to me and said, "I broke up with her; I couldn't be with her any longer."

"Why not?" I asked, hating myself for being so curious. Ana seemed a perfectly innocent person. No doubt she was in tears.

"She wasn't you."

The words didn't even sink far into my mind. I heard it, but thought nothing of it. Weariness took over me. All those nights of unrest was finally taking over me. Here I was in comfort, feeling peaceful for at least a moment.

James was looking at me. "I--I know I shouldn't, but--" He stopped. I did not mind. "I'll ask you one last time. Lily--will you go out with me?"

I could barely comprehend his words as I slipped into blissful sleep. Indeed, I had not even known that my lips were moving, uttering words that I thought would be my secret forever.

"I love you, James."

And I left the world of consciousness as I let my dreams sweep over me.

I never did see that look of delight, surprise, and ecstatic joy cross his face, and more importantly, love.

Then again, I never had to.

I already knew.


End file.
